


The 40 days

by Shackett74



Series: Shackett stories [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Ark Hyperion, Defense Committee, F/M, Introspective perspective, Jian Garson (mentioned) - Freeform, Kuiper Belt - Freeform, The Andromeda Initiative, internal affairs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shackett74/pseuds/Shackett74
Summary: It's day 40 of Shepard's detention.And no word from neither her nor the Defense Committee nor the due process.So Steven Hackett take the matter into his own hands.This chapter is about his journey to Vancouver and is mostly introspective but shares flashbacks and important plot.Originally a part of "Sometimes it's all about..."
Relationships: Steven Hackett/Female Shepard
Series: Shackett stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969849
Kudos: 3





	The 40 days

**Author's Note:**

> Made an overhaul in two parts the 31st of January and 1 of February; shortening sentences, deleting unnecessary content and edited tense. All to improve readability. 
> 
> It's still a quite plot heavy chapter though, and I can't do much about that. I want to make the Admiral's life and especially work as realistic as I can.

**Sol system  
** **Day 40 of Cmd Shepard's detention  
28th of March, 2186  
**

The VIP shuttles used by the System's Alliance for diplomats, ministers, and Admirals on official business, reminded externally of the shuttles used during the early 21st century in their elongated, stocky bodies and two small wings on either side of the solid body. On the inside, however, the shuttle's spacious decor was quite lavish. Merlot red, wooden details contrasted elegantly to the creme-colored nuances of fabric. Only four luxurious leather seats in the same russet and creme colors adorned the cabin, and each had a small table with its individual workspace and terminal.  
Behind the seats and adjacent to the three-step entrance, a sideboard along the wall made up the bar and contained a coffee machine, fruit, and beverages for the guests.

Today the shuttle carried only one VIP-guest. Alone in the cabin sat the highest-ranking officer in the Alliance military, Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett. As always, he wore the blue and golden Alliance uniform, and the buttons on the front of the lean, fit torso glimmered faintly in the soft light when the silver-haired, grave man shifted position. Before him on the wine-colored table lay a few Digi-pads with reports, and next to them lay the Admiral's cap orderly placed.

The shuttle shuddered lightly, and Hackett looked out the window and saw the reason - a chunk of ice from the Kuiper Belt had hit the shields with force. 

"So sorry for that, Admiral. It came out of nowhere," said the pilot apologetically over the speakers.

Hackett searched through his mind and suggested, "Could it be the Varuna causing problem?"

"Yes...How did you know, sir?"

He huffed. "Through 'space magic,'" and added reassuringly before the lad could get too puzzled.

"No, I just try to keep my _very_ old astrophysics courses up to date."

Although in his mind he wondered if it might have been the Fourth performing some target practice further out in the Belt. From the Fourth, it wasn't a giant leap for his mind over to the report on Normandy's retrofit-process he'd just read, and to Commander Shepard.

It went by itself these days, and today his mind was unusually meandering.

Five weeks without any tidings on the progress of her case, nor any formal charges, had changed his impassive modus operandi, deciding it was due time for a shenanigans of his own to ascertain what was actually going on.  
Achieved by using his rank to make a formal testimony on the Bahak incident - in person and before the Defense Committee in Vancouver. His purposes with this visit were several, though. and After a recent report of growing concern among Alliance special operations personnel, Hackett knew a statement would be timely, necessary even. From their view, Shepard's case made them wonder if they too risked ending up just like N7 Shepard, and it was understandable distress. Despite not having a formal specialist training like the special forces had, Special operations, and his own special area of expertise - exploration and reconnaissance - had always been under Fifth supervision. Thus he felt a special bond and responsibility.

With a restless sigh, Hackett rose to stretch his stiff limbs and strolled over to fetch himself some coffee. Leaning casually against the wine-red sideboard, the high-end machine wheezed quiet and simmering behind him. Besides the need for continuous, open support for all Alliance Spec ops, it was the potential meddling of the Internal Affairs that really bothered him.   
Normally the Internal Affairs investigated corruption and crimes belonging to the _civilian_ side of the System's Alliance. 

While military abuse of authority usually was investigated by the Defense Committee personnel. Now and then it happened, of course, that both departments shared the responsibility with complicated cases. But Shepard's case wasn't complicated, not really. If the D.C or IA thought so, his staff would gladly release Shepard's Mission reports and Captain's logs.

The crux with her case was that the System's Alliance was a young democracy, its laws and regulations still vague enough for loopholes to exist that could be used by fanatical IA investigators to meddle. In that case it might likely mean trouble.  
Hackett picked up a green apple from a basket on the sideboard next to the coffee machine and took a big bite, and noticed the machine had gone silent. He brought the cup back to his seat and sat down.

Any potential charges or accusations - legit or not - should have been formally voiced by now. And he concluded that the only benefit of Shepard's detention so far was that the batarian tantrums had calmed considerably in the last weeks, no doubt having expected only words as excuses from the Alliance. Not that he was overly fond of batarians, but their rage was understandable if he was honest - and he always tried to be.

He peered outside the shuttle window for a long time where faint stars and space dust of beautiful colors came much closer in a tiny shuttle than in the Orizaba. The faint green nuances from the Horsehead nebula made his roaming mind end up looking into the pair of moss green, mesmerizing eyes of Jane Shepard, looking deeply into his eyes.

Hackett shrugged and sighed. A tiny streak of annoyance flashed by at the new proof of his nowadays uncharacteristic lack of iron-willed self-discipline.

When the first enamored rapture had thankfully calmed down somewhat after his turian guest later that same day he still needed an agreement with himself. Especially when his focus shattered at the most inopportune moments by the strong memories of parted lips, kisses, and other considerably more intimate memories.

No swooning in the daytime - only in the evenings.  
That deal, however ironic and amusing, turned out to work fairly well. And in the evenings Hackett allowed himself to remember. To contemplate and process what had happened.  
And every night, in the darkness of his chilly, grey bedroom, she came to him again.

¤¤¤

Half an hour later, the speakers crackled and the pilot's young voice interrupted his impassive, half dozing contemplation.

"Sir, the Ark Hyperion is in timely orbit, you can see it ahead at our right-hand side."

He straightened and looked out on the impressive Ark in the distance. According to the latest AIS report, the launch was somewhat delayed due to some issues with cryotubes.  
Garson's dream was finally a reality, and Steven was genuinely impressed by the enormous achievement she and the entire Initiative had pulled through so far.

But as Fleet Admiral, there was no room for lauding the Andromeda Initiative and the problems the organization had caused on and off through the year with their methods. The techniques demanded a centuries-long journey like the one they would undertake, which meant the Initiative had vacuumed the Milky Way for technology suited for deep space exploration and colonization. And they behaved in a "by all means necessary-fashion" that resembled Cerberus way too much at times. He took a new sip from the now cold coffee, and the cup muffled the annoyed snort.

Along its journey from dream to realization, the Initiative had soaked up the technology needed in more or less acceptable ways. On their way the Initiative agents even stole blueprints on cryo-engineering and one experimental technique for deepspace ship engines. Not to mention ammunition and weapons from the Alliance.  
The list could be made quite long during the twenty year long time span, actually.

Such behavior pissed Hackett off, to be honest.  
  
There needed to be a certain order to the way things were created, done, and upheld. And while pragmatic flexibility sometimes could be acceptable - _should_ be - even, the way the Initiative had roamed about, giving themselves sketchy liberties that no one except Cerberus did, was just as arrogant as it was ignorant. But since the other races experienced the same lack of will from the Initiative to cooperate, the AIS struck a deal with the salarian STG and Council five years ago. 

That said, the closer the shuttle came in its passing the slender ship, the more impressed Hackett reluctantly grew of its sleek yet powerful architecture. For his mind's eye, Steven compared the details from the blueprints they had managed to retrieve of the ark - and felt the smugness tugging the corners of his mouth up at that. What goes around comes around.  
Quickly, he got swooped up among enchanting ship specs and details, scientific formulas and engineering marvels as their tiny shuttle passed the looming Hyperion in the distance. 

Leaning back again in the seat, he quietly murmured the Ark and Initiative a safe journey. "You have 98% unknown space left to discover of _this_ galaxy, you dreaming fools. But you have my earnest Godspeed none the less."

As they neared Earth the traffic intensified. Beyond the Hyperion and Earth flew commercial ships and passenger shuttles in fast moving traffic-lanes. Due to the intensity the days before the Ark's departure, only a few battle groups of cruisers from the Fourth Fleet patrolled the space between Earth, Luna base, and Mars. And the Alliance cruisers floated majestically like large grey boulders between the fast-moving stones of Initiative shuttles. 

But it was the sight of Earth that took his breath away as always. The beautiful blue and white nuances caused a warm and content joy inside. The last time he'd visited Earth was more than two years ago, he realized surprised. Their investment in the super expensive QEC's really facilitated his Board meetings that otherwise demanded frequent IRL visits like this. But that was a minor detail; more important was the fleet commands' benefits in keeping instant contact with each other and the HQ on Arcturus over great distances.

Hackett peered out at the breathtaking silhouette of the blue and white planet and felt a moment's flash of longing for his childhood's Buenos Aires. Time had apparently just flown by as he engulfed into his new assignments as Fleet Admiral. And with a painful pang in his heart, he remembered the tragedy that happened soon after his promotion. The Normandy's crash, the elusive threat of the Collector's and loss of Shepard, had contributed immensely to his focus on work. 

But that was two years ago. Soon...soon he would be back on Earth and once more feel the wind and elements on his face. 

A faint, knowing smile appeared on his lips.   
While his love for Earth remained solid and mild in his backbone, he also knew the warm sensations of anticipation in his chest and a thousand flaps of butterfly wings in his stomach, held nothing about his testimony.


End file.
